


How to Make a Family

by jujus_writing_corner



Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Arguing, Budding Found Family, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, abuse recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: Two months after Derek died, Eric is still struggling with the loss of the last of his family. The other egos are less than sympathetic, and while Eric understands it, that doesn't make things easier.When he finally breaks down, someone unexpected comes to help him start piecing himself together.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	How to Make a Family

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of fics where Derek dies/is killed horribly by the other egos, and Eric is instantly happy and doesn't grieve at all. I like those fics, and I get their appeal, but I wanted to take my Eric in a more realistic direction.
> 
> Because, well...abuse dynamics are complicated, especially when the abuser is a parent. Parents raise you, shelter and feed you, show you what's supposed to be normal, and even if they do a shitty job of it, they're still the only parents you have. If they suddenly die you might be relieved deep down, but you've also just lost someone you've known your whole life. And if you're like Eric and had no other family left but them...it's not as simple as "yay they're dead, I'm free!!"
> 
> And that big ol' disclaimer is just to head off those who might try calling me an abuse apologist or something which...no, lmao. I just prefer writing realism to cathartic fantasy ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyway, if you're still on board with this fic, enjoy! :D

It’s been a few months since Eric Derekson came to Ego Inc.

It’s been two months since his father died.

The place was strange enough to get used to even with his father there. The other egos were intimidating, and a bit standoffish at first. Eric gathered from the whispered conversations he sometimes overheard that there hadn’t been any new egos for over a year and a half. Well, there’d been new egos, but they hadn’t been popular enough to stick around. The thought had terrified Eric, to die a slow death by being forgotten. And he felt sorry for the other egos, that they had to witness it so many times, to the point where they didn’t want to get attached to the newbie.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

The other reason was Derek.

Most of the egos hated Derek on sight, for one reason or another. Eric has to admit that his father wasn’t very personable; he could be arrogant, loud, firm in the belief that he knew what was best in any situation. Especially any situation pertaining to Eric. Therefore, he kept Eric close, made Dark and Wilford give them adjacent rooms, insisted he and Eric went everywhere as a pair. Eric knew, objectively, that the other egos disliked Derek and not himself. But that was hard to internalize when Derek only ever attracted biting insults, sneers, glares, glances away and hurried winces. Derek bore them all with entitled rage, but Eric couldn’t let them go. He only ever went anywhere with Derek. He only ever saw the other egos angry or hateful. Derek didn’t help, either.

“Do you see how much they hate us?” Derek would ask Eric when they were alone together, “Aren’t they cruel to us both? Do you think they might try to attack us one day? Aren’t you afraid that they’ll try to pull us apart? But don’t be scared, we won’t let them put a wedge between us. We still have each other.”

_We still have each other._

Eric is physically unscarred, aside from the puckered ends of his legs where they fit into his prosthetics. But there are sixteen holes cut into his being, sixteen wounds that eat away at him every day: One for every brother, and one for his mother. Derek has them too, and it’s the thing that keeps them together. In a building full of hostile strangers, all they had were each other, and Derek never failed to remind Eric of it.

But was that ever true? Eric was never attacked by the other egos, but Derek didn’t stop slapping him around. The other egos never said anything cruel to Eric directly, but Derek never let a criticism or insult towards him go unsaid.

On the other hand, Derek was family. Eric’s family. After the loss of fifteen brothers and a mother and both his legs below the knee, Derek was the only thing left. Derek was his father. His family. And he had his moments, he had days where he was kind, days where he was easy on Eric. Days that reminded Eric of when their family was whole, and they were both happy.

So Eric clung to Derek like a lifeline. He shied away from the other egos’ attempts to get to know him. He feared many of them, and distrusted the ones he didn’t fear. Sometimes they’d try to get him away from Derek, tell him that Derek was wrong for treating him the way he did, but it was too much for Eric to stand. He ran away every time, back to Derek, back to the last of his family.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

As much as the fans loved and still love Eric, they never gave that same love to Derek. And Derek saw the consequences when he started to fade away and disappear only a few weeks after he and Eric came to Ego Inc. It had terrified Eric to see Derek decline, to see him start fluctuating in and out of reality. It tore him up inside to watch Derek die. Derek was the only piece of his family he had left, and for all his faults, he was still Eric’s father. Eric still needed him. But the universe is cruel, and Derek vanished right before Eric’s eyes, gone forever, never to be seen again, dead. Just like the rest of Eric’s family. Eric spent hours sobbing in the clinic next to the bed where Derek used to lay, crying not just for his father, but for all the other family he lost, and even for himself, now alone in the world.

That feeling of loneliness stuck for a while. Even after Dr. Iplier did his best to comfort Eric as he cried. Even after Bim knocked on his bedroom door when he spent the next three days in his room. Eric still felt out of place, useless, burdensome. He’d been told enough times that he was worthless by Derek that it was easy for him to believe it. He’d been told enough times that Derek was the only one who would ever tolerate him to accept it. He continued to shy away from the other egos, continued to fear them.

Slowly, though, the other egos proved themselves to be, if not harmless, then at least kind. Dr. Iplier seemed to have endless patience for Eric’s tears. Bim never knew how to help Eric out of his moods, but he always tried. Oliver pulled Eric into his friend group, the Jims pulled him into the studio to join their shenanigans. Silver told him stories of his heroics, King let him pet the squirrels, Ed Edgar let him hold a baby in the nursery. Even the oldest, scariest egos, Dark and Wilford, Google and Host, none of them ever seemed to have a problem with Eric.

Even now, several months after Eric came here and two months after he lost his father, the other egos still care about him. They still want him around, still like hanging out with him. The wounds inside him are healing, little by little. He’s happy. He’s loved.

Yet.

The egos still hate Derek. Eric supposes it makes sense; Derek didn’t exactly make any friends among them, didn’t give them any reason to mourn him. But it’s not just that they hate him, it’s that they expect Eric to share their hate. They deride Derek, insult him, spit his name like it’s poisonous, talk about how glad they are that he’s gone, and they expect Eric to agree, to laugh, to sigh in relief.

But Eric can’t.

Eric can’t hate the man who raised him, fed him, cried with him when the rest of their family died, bought him his prosthetics, clung to him as he faded away. The fact that those prosthetics rusted and never got replaced, the way Derek took to complaining about the care Eric required, the slaps and putdowns…they all feel so small to Eric. So small compared to the way Derek was always there, for better or worse, even if it was always worse. He needed Derek, he still does, and he can’t stop needing him just because he’s gone.

It’s easy for the other egos to celebrate Derek’s death, easy for them to wish for him the hottest part of hell, easy for them to speak of him like he was a rock in their shoes, a harmful annoyance to be tossed out. They didn’t grow up with him. They didn’t rely on him for years. The egos are full of family: The Jims causing havoc hand-in-hand with Bim chasing after, the Googles building wild machines together, Dr. Iplier and Wilford each ruffling Yandere’s hair in the hallway. But none of them know the keen pain of losing all that family, of having only one member left, of losing them, too.

Eric feels as though, in befriending the egos, he’s losing even more of his father. They give him sad looks whenever Eric recalls a positive memory of Derek, and quickly change the subject after. They huff out sympathetic sighs whenever Eric tries to defend Derek from their insults. Even Dr. Iplier, one of the kindest among them, seemed unable to understand why Eric wanted to keep his old and broken-down prosthetics instead of tossing them for new ones. He’d only let Dr. Iplier replace them if he got to hold onto them after, and though Dr. Iplier agreed, it was clear in his expression that it seemed so strange to him. Eric fought through an embarrassed blush as he took his old prosthetics to his room, but he needed them, needs them: They’re the only thing his father had given him that Eric still has. Eric was glad he had the strength to demand them, because he’s running out of that strength now. It feels harder and harder to bring Derek up in any context, harder and harder to defend him, knowing the reactions he’ll get from the others.

In some ways, everything Derek said to set him and Eric apart from the others still ring true. They _are_ cruel about Derek, and they _are_ trying to pull Eric away from him. It feels like they’re trying to make Eric stop talking about him, forget him like the fans did, kill even the memory of his father. Eric could never do something so terrible. He can admit that Derek wasn’t the best parent, that he did a lot of terrible things to Eric, but he was still the only one he had for so long. Is it so wrong of Eric to mourn him for that? Would it be right for Eric to shake off the memory of his father and curse him like the others do? Is this what he has to do to be one of them?

If he has to give up Derek, does he even _want_ to be one of them?

It runs like an undercurrent through even Eric’s fun experiences with the others. Just when Eric stops bracing himself for a cruel word against Derek, it comes out of the mouth of the ego he’s talking to. And Eric has to glance away or laugh awkwardly or find an excuse to leave. It’s all he thinks about at night before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he has nightmares about Derek’s treatment of him, but even worse are the nightmares where he watches Derek die again, where Derek scolds him for forgetting about him, for leaving him undefended. Eric wakes with a start and the cycle begins anew. It wears on him, pushes him down, makes him shy and quiet and listless. And no one notices because he’s always acted like that, he’s always been unhappy. But the source has changed, and Eric starts to crumble under the weight.

Eric is not very brave, not very loud, not very assertive. But every person has a point at which they break, and one day, in front of half the building, Eric reaches his.

It’s an innocuous enough conversation at first, shared between Bim and Oliver, Bing and Bop, Silver, Ed, King, Dr. Iplier, and of course Eric, as they sit on the couches in one of the communal rooms together. They get to talking about Disney princesses, and at first just stick to their favorites and why they’re favorites. Most of them are, anyway. Ed, Dr. Iplier, and Eric are mostly just listening.

“…and on top of all that,” Bing continues in his impassioned speech about Moana, “She gets to have BOTH her parents! That automatically makes her better than most of the other princesses!”

“Mulan’s got both her parents, too,” Oliver points out, “And Moana isn’t even technically a real princess.”

“Neither is Mulan!” Bing protests.

“Merida has both her parents,” Dr. Iplier puts in, not looking up from the book he’s reading. “And she’s a real princess.”

“Why _do_ so many princesses have dead parents?” asks Bop, brows knitted in some concern. “And so many other Disney characters, for that matter.”

“Because Walt had mommy issues and a death obsession,” Bim says, as though this is common knowledge, “Next question.”

“D-Did he really?” asks Eric, his first insertion into the conversation in many minutes. Bim’s tidbit of info is news to him, and though he’s a little disturbed, he can’t help but be curious. “But Disney movies are so…so…”

“Sweet and innocent?” Bim suggests, grinning. “Kinda like you, huh?”

Eric squeaks at the compliment and covers his face, making Bim and a few others laugh.

“They aren’t all sweet, though,” King points out. “Lots of bad stuff happens in them, too. I mean, we were talking about Mulan, she was in a war!”

“I thought you’d be madder about the bear-killing in “Brave,” King,” Silver muses.

“Bears are enemies of squirrels,” King replies with a somewhat-haughty sniff.

“But hey, to answer your question, Eric,” Bim says, “Walt Disney was apparently really interested in death. There were some creepy Disney attractions themed around it that never got made, but there’s still the haunted mansion ride and other things like that. But he was also really scared of death, and he was convinced he was gonna die young. He was so freaked out that one of his close friends or cousins or something died and he refused to be the pallbearer!”

“Where’d ya hear that?” asks Ed, entering the conversation with a laugh, “One of them “Top Ten Dark Secrets of Disney” videos?”

“For your _information,_ ” Bim snaps, dramatically offended as the others laugh, “I learned it from a very reputable source who happens to be a mortician. So she would know about that stuff.”

“A mortician on YouTube, though,” Oliver says, then laughs when Bim smacks him in the arm.

“That s-sounds bad, but…” Eric begins quietly, “You s-said something about, um, Walt Disney and his mom…?”

Eric can’t help but want to know more about that, after his own history with his mother.

“Well,” Bim starts, less bombastically than normal as it dawns on him why Eric is so curious, “She died because of the furnace in her house. It leaked poisonous fumes or something, and she suffocated. It affected Walt for the rest of his life.”

“That’s terrible!” Eric gasps. “N-No wonder it showed up in his work…”

Dr. Iplier lifts a hand from his book to squeeze Eric’s shoulder comfortingly.

“He still made some amazing things, though, didn’t he?” Dr. Iplier asks with a soft smile, “It hurt him, but he pushed forward.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eric admits, allowing himself a tiny grin.

“Luckily Walt still had his dad,” Bim puts in, “He survived that accident and lived for a few more years.”

“Hmm,” Eric hums thoughtfully, a little melancholy, “That must have been hard, losing them both in such a short time. I-I guess I don’t know exactly how he felt, but…but I know a little bit, and it’s…n-not good.”

Understatement, of course, but it’s still difficult for Eric to talk about. But talking about grief is good. Eric wants to feel better someday, and tiptoeing around his losses won’t help.

However…

“Well, you only had one good parent to lose,” Bim points out, “Not much of a silver lining, but it’s something.”

Some of the others in the room hum in agreement. The rest don’t react, don’t tell Bim to lay off, don’t display any negative feelings towards his words. Because even the ones who don’t react still agree. They agree that Eric only had one parent he should miss. That he only had one parent worth mourning. A sob curls around Eric’s throat, thick and painful. He struggles to keep it in as he speaks.

“W-What does that mean?” he asks, quiet and strained. He knows what Bim means, but he’s too nervous to be more direct.

The others look at him strangely.

“He means…” Bing starts, before Bim can speak, “He means exactly that, dude. You lost your mom, and that really sucks. But you lost Derek too, and that, well, sucks a lot less.”

“Don’t say stuff about someone’s mom so casually, Bing!” Bop cries.

“What?? It does suck!” Bing insists.

“…So does losing a father,” Eric mumbles, half-under his breath.

“When they’re a good one, sure,” King says, frowning a little as he remembers Derek. “Derek loved kicking my squirrels out of his way, but they’re all better parents to their young than he ever was.”

“The death of someone you know can be very stressful,” Oliver says pragmatically, “But the death of someone who was a detriment to your wellbeing can be a positive event in the long run.”

“You’re such a brainiac,” Bim laughs, “You don’t need that many words to say “it’s a good thing when bad people die.” He leans over and kisses Oliver’s cheek. Oliver giggles as Bing pretends to gag beside him.

“Well, he still made me, didn’t he?” Eric says, voice still quiet but suddenly sharp. “He made me, and he made my brothers. Does that make us bad too, then?”

“Of course not!” Silver is the one to exclaim, “Just because Derek was a bad person doesn’t mean you are, too.”

“Eric, come on,” Bim says, placating, “You don’t need to get so upset about it. Derek’s not here, you won’t get in trouble for shit-talking him.”

“Is that what you think this is??” Eric cries, standing from his seat on the couch, startling half the group into staring as well.

“Hey–”

“Stop!” Eric yells, cutting Bim off. Tears are hot in his eyes, burning as keen as his throat does. “Just stop!! I’m so tired of this happening every time I mention Dad, or feel bad about him dying! Why is it so weird that it hurts? Why can’t I just be sad about losing my dad??”

“Because he doesn’t deserve your grief!!” Bim shouts. His eyes are blazing. “He _abused_ you, Eric! He never once gave you any kindness!”

“He _did_ give me kindness!” Eric retorts, “Before my mom died, before my brothers died, before we came here, and the times we were alone…” He almost sobs, and though he manages to suppress it, he can’t stop the tears that start to flow. “You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know about how he raised me and my brothers, you don’t know how happy he made my mom, you don’t know how much he grieved when we lost them–” His breath chokes. “But he comforted me when I cried, he kept me clothed and fed and safe, and when he started dying, he, he…” The sob finally breaks free, loud in the room. “He didn’t want anyone with him but me. He told me he was sorry to leave me. He needed me, and I needed him, and then he _died._ I can’t just stop needing him just because he’s gone!!”

“You _don’t_ need him!” Bim yells. “The ten percent of the time he was good to you doesn’t make up for the ninety percent of the time when he beat you and insulted you!!” He looks well and truly angry now. “He’s gotten to you so bad that you think he deserves you after spending his whole life hurting you! Can’t you just get that through your head and be happy he’s gone like you should be!?”

“I know he hurt me!” Eric screeches, sobbing, “Do you really th-think I don’t know that?? But he was all I h-had! He was the o-only family I had left! He was the only part of my old life and my family that I still had and then he died and _none of you are letting me mourn!!”_ Eric didn’t know he could scream so loud, but the volume doesn’t abate his tears. “My whole family is dead and none of you care, none of you are letting me feel it! Dad told me you guys were trying to pull us apart and turn us against each other and make me forget about him and he was _right!!_ He was right about you being hateful and cruel and inconsiderate and – and – and–”

“Eric, hey,” murmurs Dr. Iplier, reaching out to comfort him again.

“You don’t get it either!!” Eric snaps at him. “You w-were gonna throw away my old prosthetics after I got them replaced! He _bought_ those for me! They’re the only p-piece of him I have left! Why was it so weird that I wanted to keep them?? Why don’t any of you get that it hurts! Why don’t any of you get that _I can’t just stop hurting!?”_

Eric finally breathes long enough to look at the others. Bim is still angry, Oliver is holding his shoulders, nervous. Dr. Iplier looks stricken. The rest of the room is in varying states of shock, and pity. Still. Pity, all the time, like Eric doesn’t have enough agency for his own suffering. He can’t take it anymore.

He runs out of the room, still in tears.

He makes it to his bedroom but doesn’t have the strength to open his door and go inside. He curls up, back to the door, sits on the ground and cries into his arms. Part of him wants to force himself to lock himself in his room, because Bim’s room is just down the hall and he might come up later. The Jims are on the opposite end, and though they don’t seem to be in their room right now, Eric doesn’t want to explain this to them when they eventually do come. But he has no more strength, no more will. He aches with tears and grief, his skin is hot with shame over the way he shouted and raged. He wants to shrivel away into nothing. Maybe that would hurt less, feel less bad than this.

Eric isn’t sure how long he stays like that. It’s probably not long, maybe five or ten minutes, but it feels like forever that Eric sits there crying. Eventually, though, he hears footsteps walking towards him, and cringes into a tighter ball as the pair of feet stop in front of him.

“Please go away,” he whimpers, not looking up.

He’s answered by a warm, quiet chuckle.

“Please?” asks the person, not unkindly. “That ain’t very compelling, kid.”

Eric looks up to see Ed standing there, looking down at him. Ed’s been one of the more considerate people in Ego Inc. so far, Eric has to admit. He hardly ever says anything mean about Derek. But then, he also doesn’t defend him, and tends to give Eric pitied looks like the others do.

Eric whimpers and puts his head back in his arms.

“Hey now, I ain’t making fun of ya,” Ed says. Eric hears him sit down on the floor across from him. “I wanted to check on ya. You ran outta there quicker than a hot knife through butter.”

“No one understands,” Eric can’t help gasping through his tears, “No one knows how it feels to lose their whole family.”

“Well…”

The way Ed draws out the word gives Eric pause. He looks up to see Ed sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh no, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” Eric stammers, quick to apologize even in tears.

“It’s alright,” Ed assures him, “It was my own fault anyway.” He sighs softly, looks away. “Drove away my wife, only wanted my kid to sell ‘im. Eventually she got custody and never looked back. I don’t blame ‘em.” He looks back at Eric. “I used to wonder if either of them missed me. If they ever thought about me.”

“…D-Do you think they do?” Eric asks.

“I know they do.” Ed’s gaze is careful, but kind. “All the kids in my nursery spend their first few days or weeks crying for their moms and dads, no matter how cruel they were. I get kids who end up with me after their parents hurt him, demean them, even sell them to me themselves. Yet these kids cry and cry for their old parents, they don’t want new ones.”

“Really?” Eric sniffles, taken in despite himself.

“Really.” Ed says. “They recover in time, though. Eventually they realize they’re happier in the nursery than they were at home.” Ed leans in, conspiratorial. “See, the problem ain’t that they love their parents. Every kid does. And it ain’t that they don’t realize they were being abused, at least not all the time. The problem’s that they don’t know how good a parent can be. Sometimes they don’t think they deserve anything better, or they just think that their parents are normal. They know what they know, and everything else scares them. It’s a tough transition, for sure. It ain’t easy for them to accept that the things their parents did were wrong, even if they already know deep down.” Ed puts a hand Eric’s shoulder, firm but gentle. “What helps them get through it is support. They just need to be held when they cry. They just need someone to listen. If they can get that, most of them can move on.”

“M-Most?”

“Some of them end up needing an actual therapist,” Ed admits, “But…for a lot of them, support is the main thing they need.” He squeezes Eric’s shoulder. “You haven’t been getting enough of that, huh?”

Eric’s eyes well up with fresh tears. His throat is too tight to respond.

“Let’s start now, kid, how about it?” Ed offers a crooked smile.

Eric unfolds himself and crawls into Ed’s chest, sobbing anew. Ed hugs him, tight and secure. He doesn’t panic over Eric’s tears like Bim does, and he doesn’t rush to coddle and hush Eric like Dr. Iplier does, either. He simply holds Eric, sits there as an anchor, strong and solid, grounding Eric and giving him the space for tears.

“I m-miss them,” Eric sobs, “I miss D-Dad, and Mom, and my b-brothers!”

“I know, kid,” Ed murmurs, “I know it hurts.”

“It f-feels like it’ll never s-stop,” Eric moans, “It f-feels like I’ll always miss them all, e-even Dad.”

“You probably will miss them forever,” Ed admits, “You might even miss Derek forever. But someday it won’t hurt this much, and someday you’ll be able to leave Derek in the past.” He gives Eric a squeeze. “Don’t worry about that yet, though. Right now, you grieve as much as you need to.”

Eric keeps crying. The words hurt to hear, but not in the way Bim’s did. They hurt the way a flu shot hurts, the way the first dab of disinfectant on a cut hurts, the way the sharp itch of a healing wound hurts. They hurt in the fashion of a storm before calm, of pain before catharsis, of sadness before happiness. It’s a hurt that tells Eric he’s healing. It’s a hurt that Eric knows, deep in his soul, that he needs. It’s the hurt he’s needed since his father died.

Eventually, finally, Eric’s tears run out. Ed stays holding him, sitting on the floor, uncomplaining. Eric waits for Ed to say something, to let go, but he doesn’t. And Eric is glad for it, because he needs to sit in his lap for a little longer. He sighs lightly, head in Ed’s shoulder, taking in the quiet. It’s a peace untainted by worry, by anxiety over the other egos and what they think of his grief. Eric is desperately happy to have it.

“Thanks, Mr. Edgar,” he whispers, voice hoarse from tears but strong.

“Oh shucks, call me Ed,” Ed laughs quietly. He ruffles Eric’s hair with a gentle hand. “You feeling better, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Eric pulls his head out of Ed’s shoulder to meet his eyes. He manages a smile. “I really needed that.”

“Glad to be of service,” Ed says, cheeks slightly pink, removing an arm from around Eric to tip his hat. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Eric is still the first one to pull away completely from the embrace. When they both get up, Ed snaps his fingers.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, “Trimmer’ll be coming by at some point to give you an apology.”

“O-Oh,” Eric mumbles, nervous again. He remembers how terrible their argument was, and he doesn’t exactly want to revisit it.

“He’ll be on his best behavior,” Ed assures him, “And you ain’t gotta accept it unless you really want to.”

Eric nods. He already knew that, he’s pretty sure, but it’s nice to hear.

Ed ends up being right on the first count, too. When Bim apologizes, he’s subdued, genuinely remorseful. He promises to do better, to stop making Eric feel defensive. Eric accepts his apology, accepts his hug, and hopes that things will change.

~~~

A few days later, Eric is making cookies when Bim comes in to chat and, as Eric soon discovers, steal cookie dough.

“Hey!” Eric says, without any real distress in it. “That piece is enough to make a whole cookie!” Bim laughs as he eats the pilfered chunk, then his grin gets bigger.

“This is great, Eric!” Bim exclaims. “These are sugar cookies, right? I usually don’t like them much.”

“Then why’d you eat the dough?” Eric asks cheekily, laughing at Bim’s dramatic squeak.

“For your _information,_ ” Bim sniffs, “I didn’t know they were sugar cookies until I ate them. Every sugar cookie I’ve ever had is too boring, but these actually have flavor!”

“Th-Thanks,” Eric stammers, bashful but smiling. “Mom taught me how to make them.” His expression goes soft. “Sometimes Dad would help, but he never had the knack for it. We always made a mess. He’d clean and I’d actually make the cookies, and we would just laugh. It was always really nice.”

The pause in conversation is what makes Eric realize that he brought up his father in a positive light again.

“Oh,” Bim finally says, careful. “That…sounds nice.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eric answers, unsure of what else to say.

There’s silence for a few long moments as Eric continues to work on the cookies. Just when he’s about to say something just to fill the quiet –

“Maybe you could show me,” Bim says, “Next time you make your cookies, I mean. I’m not much of a baker, but I’ll give it a shot.” He smiles briefly, but then seems mildly panicked. “I mean, only if you want to.”

“No, that…” Eric is a little astonished, but makes himself speak. “That sounds really fun. I’ll tell you next time I’m thinking about making them.”

“Great!” Bim exclaims, snapping back to his normal exuberant self. “For now, though, I’ll be taking this.” He swipes another chunk of cookie dough.

“Hey!” Eric laughs, making no attempt to stop him.

The pair talk for so long that the cookies almost burn, which they then tease each other for.

Similar incidents happen as days pass: When Eric mentions Derek in a positive context, the others let him. They find something kind to say about it, they don’t let the moment hang there awkwardly – at least, not for very long. It doesn’t come naturally to most of them, most of them struggle for things to say. But they always make the effort, they always try. The always keep the conversation going, not by changing the subject or redirecting, but by adding, contributing. Eric starts to feel closer to them. The feeling of walking on eggshells goes away. He starts to finally feel like he has true friends here.

Sometimes, he catches Ed’s eye when someone else lets him talk about Derek. Ed will grin and wink, and Eric will smile back. Sometimes Eric still needs to talk, sometimes he’ll go to Ed and cry a little, start trying to process the not-so-good memories of Derek. He’ll have little epiphanies in the way the others treat him, realizing that the way Derek did something or addressed something is far removed from what the others do and expect as normal. Eric goes to Dr. Iplier sometimes too; he’s the doctor in the building, after all, and he’s better at addressing the nuts and bolts of Eric’s grief, especially now that he understands it better. When Eric’s nightmares of Derek’s treatment of him eclipse those about Derek’s death, Bim will be the one to hear Eric’s crying and come to his room to comfort him. But usually it’s Ed who Eric trusts with the deepest part of himself, the hardest part of his recovery.

One day Marie, Ed’s favorite child in the whole nursery, calls Ed “Papa,” and Eric is surprised by the jolt it gives his system. Not in a bad way, he realizes as he watches Ed blush and stammer, but in a new way, a way that’s unfamiliar but welcome.

It’s not over yet, Eric knows. His feelings for Derek are still complicated. But he’s well on his way to healing, to moving on, to finding new family in Ego Inc.

**Author's Note:**

> :')
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at juju-on-that-yeet.tumblr.com, I love getting messages from y'all as much as I love getting your comments and kudos ;w; <3


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